


Clipped Wings

by FallingInToThePages



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Domestic Avengers, Explicit Language, Gen, Hydra, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magical Creatures, Master of Death Harry Potter, MoD!Harry, S.H.I.E.L.D - Freeform, Slightly insane!Harry, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, cross-over
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9304325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingInToThePages/pseuds/FallingInToThePages
Summary: When Natasha comes back after a few years taking down an underground Hydra facility as a double agent, she finally rejoins the Avengers. However, she comes to them with someone who peaks their interests and one who keeps Fury on his toes.Harry has become a shell of the hero that he used to be. He can't remember his name, his family, or his past, and all he can trust are his instincts that fare against his broken mind. Very AU//UNDER HEAVY RECONSTRUCTION & EDITING //





	1. Wooden Bird, Flightless Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all!  
> I have been kicking this plotline around for some time. This plotline came to me after reading various works made by others, however, they have not directly inspired my own plots, as it verges off of some cliches, and takes some twists.  
> Also, I have rated it as mature since I'm kind of paranoid, and I could use some breathing space, so just know that this book won't, probably, be too bad. Probably just a ton of feels, though.  
> Additionally, this fic doesn't take place in any certain Marvel timeline, for those who are picky, though, it's possibly a time of semi-peace after S.H.I.E.L.D finds out that they are corrupt with Hydra sympathizers and agents but after The Avengers movie. Also, I might get some things wrong in the Marvel universe since I haven't watched all of the movies or read any of the comics, but I hope this satisfies you guys all the same.  
> In the Harry Potter 'verse, it takes place long after the Deathly Hollows, but with how some factors are set, Harry is much older than he appears and can be seen as a little OOC, plus he is a gay little Master of Death with my own ideas in that title. There's always a method to my madness as you all will come to find :)
> 
> So, I hope you all enjoy!

Outside, with the chilling wind howling for its revenge. An owl's hoot traveled with the screams over the scarce plains, the faint moonlight drifting in through the barricaded windows, similar to a sickly dog, returning to its' owner. Cascading on the pale stone walls, walls that hid him from the war outside, the constant noise and disease. How he knew every crack and every hole. Never have they harmed him, like the residents of this place. He turned his dull, green eyes to the hiding moon. It's crescent shape slicing through the dark of the night sky, the sickle of the space rocks cutting through the darkness like barley or wheat. However, he would not know what these things were when he was kept in these walls.  
Despite the images of wide open fields of the crops filling his mind, he could not explain the phantom touch of the grain, as he has never eaten anything with much texture in this place. The gruel was awful, yet he had the feeling that it could be worse. He stretched his sore body, the yellow and black bruises crying out in subdued pain. He could live another day, but he suspected that the same couldn't be said for his tormentors. His gut whirled with anxiety, for what? He had no idea. He allowed his thoughts to drift back to the hours beforehand, as he shifted on the meager cot of rotting straw that was dubbed as a mattress. He, as well as the other subjects, similar to the rogue Winter Soldier, had been training under the watchful eyes of their handlers, and the many scientists. One of them being the red-haired woman. From the start of her admission into the program, something about her presence irked him. She acted as his main handler. When he first awoke in this place, it had been a painful experience that had taken place long ago. He pulled at his black locks in distress, the nauseating memories of being strapped to a lab table, and being prodded made his stomach churn. He turned onto his side, rubbing his eyes in a soothing pattern, along with his bare feet, trying to sooth his aching nerves. She had never given her name, or at least, a believable one. She didn't waste time in naming him, however, as she named him 'Little Viper'.

The rags he wore, chaffed into his pale skin, the toned muscle relaxing as he thought about his handler, someone who cared for him in this dreary place. She was an interesting person. She was a strict and harsh handler while they were surrounded by the others, especially the higher officers, as she often beat him and made him fall to his knees in pain. There, she would silently punish him, her face void of emotion as she cracked the whip menacingly. Those were the times that he could see through her heavily applied mask. He could look into those brown eyes for a second, and find the barest emotion, sometimes sorrow, other times disgust and pity, yet her hand would never hesitate, or heal his wounds in front of others. Behind closed doors, her hands would become as gentle as a bubbling creek, washing over his sore body with a salve or patches that kept his open wounds from becoming infected. He came to the conclusion, that somehow, his handler had grown somewhat fond of him. She became protective. It could have been from hearing other handlers, male, and female, gloat about their sexual encounters with him or the extent of previous beatings before she came to the facility. His body could always recall their hands and lips over him in ways that he did not ask for, nor agree to. His lithe form and gentle curves allowed some men to lose themselves into their own fantasies and rape him, with the motivation that starvation from any form of intimate contact can create or the merciless drive for violence that some people feel for another, feelings that these walls set into one's very soul. He could use his powers to fight back, however, he knew that that would only end in spilled blood on his end, and some sort of punishment, even worse than the daily starvation and solitude placed upon him. So he hadn't fought against the men that came inside of him, nor the women who squeezed an orgasm from him or wrapped their hungry mouths around his body. But as time in these walls, and in his handler's presence, crawled by, the needy men and women stopped visiting his cell deep into the night, seemingly scared off by the dominant redhead. His eyes drifted shut sluggishly, the mattress hard to sleep on, as it did little to act as a barrier between his body and the stone floor. The air surrounding him was bone chilling, and he let out a small huff of breath as the screaming wind barged into his room through the small window overhead. 

Later in the night, he fell into a dreamless sleep. Darkness pressed the stone walls, as the wispy clouds in the night sky covered what little of the moon was out. As he slept, a secret meeting was conducted many levels under his room. His handler, Natasha Romanov, fixed her fellow agents with a serious eye, her lightly toned arms crossed over each other in her tightly fitted black uniform. Her hair was fairly long, falling down her back in wavy curls, as her brown eyes observed the five other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents sent in by one Director Fury. They had been deployed to the facility about the same time and were making progress in weeding their way through the corrupt ranks of the Hydra agents. "Everything's planted?" She asked in a voice that was more of a demand than anything else, the agent farthest left of her nodded, "Everything should be ready to go off by the end of this week," He replied for their group. She gave a determined nod, "Fury asked for the subjects that showed promise to be transferred to our own labs," another agent piped up, to this, Natasha frowned. "Their conditions are unstable," She told them, "However, the older ones' would be more stable than the newer ones." She said as an afterthought, pacing a little, as her thoughts drifted to the easily frightened and unreliable subjects. They were generally the younger ones, and often times filled with illness and infections, comparing them to the older, more desperate and weary subjects who knew their way around the facility and knew how to follow orders. She swept her eyes from face to face, her stance still slightly relaxed, "I can make the transition easier by having a mission set out for the ones that can be trusted into 'attacking' Headquarters," She told them, pulling her shoulders back in resolution. "Agent Barton," She addressed the agent next to her, his sandy hair contrasting her dark red as his pale eyes looked up to her from his whittling. "Yep?" He hummed from his seated position, his feet propped up on the table, "We will have to put this plan into action subtly," She stated simply, "Keep your eyes sharp, and bow at the ready," She caught his eye pointedly, and he nodded, straightening up in his seat with a comically determined look on his face. She turned to address the other agents, her stance more tense and stiff, "Let's not idle around," She told them in a firm voice, making the other agents tense as well, "Keep adding chips to the computer programs," She added, and they nodded in a frantic manner towards their leading agent. "Dismissed," She jerked her head to the doorway, "Except for Barton," She eyed her partner as he sheathed his dagger to his hip, the others briskly speed out of the stifling room, and it's intimidating atmosphere.

Clint Barton gave a smirk as he watched the redhead close the door. "You had those kids quaking in their boots, Nat," He smiled up at the stoic Russian, his tone friendly, though a little tired considering the time of night. She let a small little quirk of her lips slip through her mask, meeting his eyes as she rubbed her sore shoulders. "Isn't that the point?" She retorted, sitting down in the seat next to him. Clint smirked down at the small figure that he made from the little block of discarded wood, "I suppose so," He mumbled in agreement, she gave a small nod, and relaxed into her seat. "How's your little guy doing?" He asked her curiously, after a few moments of peaceful silence, in which he began to whittle again, as she thought silently. Natasha gave an uncommitted hum, before saying, "I think he would be one of the subjects to send off." Clint nodded, piercing his lips in thought. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye, noting her relaxed position, "Are you going to allow the lab rats to experiment on him?" He said in an almost conversational way. She gave a shrug, "Just because I am..." She looked for the right word, shifting slightly in her hard-backed chair, the old fashioned torches on the walls highlighting her furrowed brows. "Motherly?" Clint offered, she narrowed her eyes at him, watching how Clint licked his lips and leaned forward slightly, halting his whittling for a moment. "I've seen how protective you've become over him," He told her in a soft voice, meeting her brown eyes when she turned to look at him fully, "That sort of attachment," He sighed, breaking their eye contact briefly. He gave a noncommittal shrug, "It could make things complicated, is all," He stated, looking back into her eyes.

Natasha swallowed past the lump in her throat, looking at the dark stone walls past Clint's shoulder. "I know," She muttered, thinking back to the Red Room, and the similarities that it shared with this dark place. "Believe me," She let out a shaky breath, putting her elbows on her knees as she blinked rapidly to get rid of the horrible memories. "The absence of those bonds makes them harder to give up when they come by," She told him in a quiet voice, another moment of silence passing between them. This one was more solemn than the past one, the only noise coming from the crackling fire on wood, and the trapped wind in the halls, the faint moans of subjects a background noise in the closed off meeting room. Clint placed his figure and knife on the table in front of them, letting out a tired and weary sigh, "I know what it's like," He assured her, thinking of his farmhouse, with his gorgeous wife and beautiful children, "Protecting those you love is the hardest thing in this world to do," he gave a tired chuckle, rubbing his face with a calloused hand, "Especially when you decide that you wanna make a living by being a secret agent working with superheroes and going under cover in Nazi like cooperations," he deadpanned, drawing out a surprised chuckle from his partner. Natasha nodded her head a little, a faint smile coming to her lips as she followed his train of thought to the little children, Clint's dark humor something she had needed in the moment. "It's strange to find such feelings in a place like this," She muttered, giving a half-hearted chuckle that Clint reciprocated, she glanced up at him again, her gaze hopeful. "It makes you stronger, though," She breathed out unsurely, she had always associated what people would deem as normal feelings, as liabilities and at worse, death and suffering. After looking in her brown eyes, Clint nodded reassuringly, as he stood up, "Makes you weaker to your enemies as well," He reminded her, "Allows them to play with your mind, and use them against you." He added, almost as if he was reminding himself, catching her eyes as he sheathed his knife once more, picking up the figure, and looking at the tiny thing in the palm of his hand. As he slowly walked past her, he handed her the tiny wooden charm, clapping her on the shoulder, a familiar touch that she welcomed. Natasha gave him a gentle smile, as he swooped down and placed a friendly kiss on her cheek.

"Goodnight, little chickadee," He dodged her playful punch as she chuckled softly, clutching the little wooden bird in her other fist. "You too, ugly duckling," She mocked him, and he stuck his tongue at her over his shoulder as he closed the door. She leaned back into her chair, looking down at the delicately crafted bird adoringly, a feeling that she rarely delved into. One that was brought up behind closed doors, and typically when she was alone, or looking after Clint's little troublemakers. She sighed, bracing her forearm on the table as she placed her head on the palm of her hand. The mounting stress that came with this mission, as well as Fury wanting to finish it sooner than planned, had made her more closed off than usual. Forced her to stay in her mind more, a place full of soft doubts that she couldn't dissipate, and paranoia that made her skin crawl and second guess herself. The Red Room should have made such things disappear from her mind, but she was only human. A kick-ass, and brutally awesome human, but a human that comes with the body and soul. She cracked her back, pushed away from the table, and swiftly crossed the room, pocketing Clint's gift, she locked the door behind her and made her way up to her sleeping quarters. Walking into the stone quarters, she swiftly changed into her sleepwear, not having to worry about any untrustful eyes since she bunked alone. In her bumpy bed with its threadbare blanket, she forced all of her thoughts away from herself with a meditation technique she had picked up from Bruce.

Keeping her hand on the gun hidden under her pillow, Natasha allowed herself to fall asleep in the middle of a snake pit.


	2. Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow 'Little Viper' as he goes through his daily routine, with Natasha announcing the mission that she got cleared by the higher officials.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, everyone!
> 
> I forgot to mention this in the first chapter, but updates with this story will be kind of slow. The plotline is kind of complicated, and I have to reel in my ideas on how it's going to go for each chapter and the story itself. But as slow as it may go, be assured that this story is going to be quite long, so I'd like to believe that the wait will be worth it in the end. 
> 
> Well, that's about it for this note. I hope you all enjoy this chapter.

An echoing bang startled him awake, making him instantly jump to his feet. He watched the door with a blank expression, knowing what to expect, as the events that would be taking place happened every morning. The handlers that took shifts guarding the test subjects typically work them all up at dawn, by hitting the barred doors with their baton, or usually hitting a few of those who didn't wake because of being drugged or too injured with the butt of their rifle. Used to the set routine that had been established since the beginning of his time in this place, 'Little Viper' kept his body relaxed, knowing that any tension in his body would be viewed as aggression by the guards. They were the type to shoot first, ask questions later. His black hair fell limply, giving a greasy look in the weak sunbeams that filtered through his barred window. He didn't dare move when he heard the clattering of a key in the lock of his cell door and wearily watched the door creak open. He shuddered as the smirking face of a particularly lewd guard looked in on him. In his tattered shirt and shorts, his starved body and long legs would give others the impression that he was a prostitute, with the amount of skin that showed in the ill-fitting clothes.

"Test Subject 75, step forward," He ordered from the doorway, gripping the rifle loosely as he watched with satisfaction as the black haired man followed the directions, gracefully stalking forward. His gait could be described as measured and controlled, much like the leap of a ballet dancer. The guard grinned smugly as he stopped in front of the man, knowing what would happen if a test subject were to try and rush the handler as a means to escape. The guard stepped back into the open hallway, grabbing a hold of the subject's forearm with a bruising grip, and pressing him against a wall for the mandatory check for any weapons on the subject's body. 'Little Viper' took the harsh handling without a fight, acting as small and submissive as he looked, while behind his blank face, a tidal wave of hostility crackled, bearing its teeth at the guard with deep hatred. And as if sensing these thoughts, the guard slapped the test subject harshly, pressing him even tighter to the wall, pinning his arms between his body and the cold stone. The guard allowed his gloved hands to roam around the thin body, going through the job while subtly molesting the subject. After finding no weapons, he leaned in close to the butterfly-pinned boy, snarling in his ear, crude words, and sexual threats. Not daring to move, or even to breath, the passing by of another handler, who obviously ignored this behavior, made the guard holding him loosen his grip. "Now you better behave for the rest of the day," He snarled loudly for all to hear since he didn't want the other handlers to blackmail him with the possibility of getting Head Handler Marx on his ass for roughing up her little pet. "Slut," He growled lowly under his breath, giving the subject another cuff to the head, as he stepped back, and demanded that he get in the line that grew as other subjects were checked.

'Little Viper' fell into step with the other freaks. He knew not to talk to any of them and to keep his eyes trained ahead, not making eye contact with any of the handlers or subjects. After everyone was checked, there only being one shot this morning, the handler in charge ordered them to begin walking. The feeling of guns trained on his back, and the cold eyes from the subjects behind him passing through his head, 'Little Viper' felt the familiar sense of dread that always filled his chest when they were herded around like sheep for the slaughter house. Subtly taking a deep breath as to calm himself, he forced his thoughts on to other things. Such as the deeper sense of trepidation that he had been feeling for a few months now. His gut always seemed to be an indicator for any bad vibes that he got from people and things. Like an animals' instinct for things with evil intent. His stomach and powerful nose allowed him to escape being poisoned and drugged as often as the newer subjects. Subjects that usually succumbed to the overdose, fell to insanity, or internal bleeding from the abuse of the handlers. His strong aura of power and subtle charm allowed him to survive, as well as his loner reputation amongst the subjects. In these dark halls, a supposed friend will backstab you at any chance they could, a novice mistake for those desperate to find some escape from the constant abuse. Turning around a corner, the line made its way to the cafeteria of the facility.

The small room could barely be called a cafeteria, as there were no tables, and the gruel was left out for the subjects to fight over the moldy bits and pieces. 'Little Viper' observed his surroundings, as the other subjects either pounced on the food or went to the corners of the room due to their illnesses not allowing them to eat. His sharp eyes couldn't find the trademark dark red hair of his handler. He kept his features blank, despite the sense of loneliness that filled him. Usually, she was here when he was ushered in with the others. Shaking his head slightly as he swiveled his green eyes away from the armored guards at every possible escape route, 'Little Viper' allowed his hunger to push him into flicking his wrist at a group of subjects in front of the bucket of food. He didn't know the name of the powers that he held in his body, but almost grinned in satisfaction when he saw that the entire group was frozen in their actions, the others backing off as he stalked towards the table. He felt the guns being pointed at him, as they typically did when he decided to use his powers. Usually, he didn't during meal time, but the powers had been gnawing at him, its own hunger for being let out prominent in the way that it seemed to butt its head against the barrier that he had placed on it. Grabbing a handful of the maggot filled chow, he ate a few handfuls without the pushing that the others gave him when he didn't use his powers.

Having his small fill, 'Little Viper' turned away from the bucket, facing the anxious subjects and hard-faced guards in the silent room. Without looking at the group, he waved his hand at them, and practically floated away from the others, the crowd dispersing as he headed towards a corner, fading into the darkness as the other subjects began to fight over the gruel once more. Taking his usual spot against the wall, 'Little Viper' eyed the few subjects around him with a judging look, picking out who was sick and who was wounded. He didn't outright help the other subjects since the act of kindness would be dismissed amongst his group of older subjects since they all had the same mistrust about everyone and everything. The younger ones would begin to worship him, something that he despised the thought of for some reason, as well as them becoming obsessive in their ways to stay on his good side. To others that would sound like the ideal way of surviving the facility, but he knew that kindness will be overlooked in the end, as people will die, and attachment caused by kindness will cause pain and make them turn into a shadow of humans, while the handlers wouldn't change from their monstrous ways. He had come to terms with the fact that he couldn't control how other people acted, ever since Mynx. 'Little Viper' hoped that the bastard was in hell, where they belonged for their traitorous ways.

His eyes swiveled up as the large doors banged open, brutally crushing the joy that sung deep in his chest at seeing his handler walk into the room. The redhead walked in with her chin held high, in the middle of her squadron of the four other higher-up handlers. The man with the sandy hair walked closest to her, while the others held a respectable distance next to them. The two briefly made eye contact, however, he dropped his gaze in his usual submissive gesture, as handlers did not like eye contact unless it was demanded from the subject. His curiosity that usually came out when in a room with the mysterious female swirled around under his blank features. What could have made the redhead join them so late? Why is she holding a clipboard? This observation made him reel his foolish thoughts in, as the only time someone carried a clipboard into anywhere, it indicated that they had a mission. He lazily pushed off of the wall, and walked towards the more powerful handlers, along with the other older subjects who knew the drill. As always, he avoided the more muscular arms that tried to subtly harass him, with an almost practiced grace. Amongst the other subjects, he was categorized in the small grouping of subjects with slimmer bodies, who were built for speed and agility of a mixed martial artist.

As other subjects gathered by the podium-like stand in the front of the room, next to the table that held the food, a low murmur started up with the younger subjects. 'Little Viper' watched as his handler swiftly climbed up onto the stool, narrowing her eyes at the display of disobedience. "Silence!" She yelled over the hushed voices, startling the sickly creatures near the front, giving them a scathing look, while she threateningly raised the whip kept in the front for when subjects tried to riot when missions were announced. Gripping the metal handle, Natasha felt her stomach do uncomfortable rolls, as she hated using such methods of punishment, a method that was casually used on herself and others in the Red Room, along with the other displays of violence. The noise ended abruptly, giving a warning glare, she placed the whip back onto the table, the mandatory space in between her and the subjects keeping them from getting it, along with the rifles pointed at them. She began to read off the information for the mission from the confidential paper signed by the head of the facility's second in command. "Two days from now, only the selected subjects and handlers will be leading an ambush attack on S.H.E.I.L.D headquarters," She stated in a serious tone, her posture relaxed yet ready to attack any who were foolish enough to boycott.

"My squadron and our set subjects," She went on to name off a few unimportant subjects and some of the more squeamish agents, those that 'Little Viper' wasn't too familiar with since they had different training schedules, but as he examined the ones that looked up in the back, he realized that they were mainly in the older subject groups. Internally, he frowned, knowing that his handler always did things with a hidden motive, he began to wonder what she had in store for their little group, and what the actual plan was. He tuned in as she stopped naming off the subjects, "Per usual, handlers are to continue training as planned without the subjects as stated, and guard posts will be filled," She told them with a more monotonous tone, one that he associated with her finding something boring or tedious. "And stated handlers shall start the mandatory mission training sessions with the grouped subjects, which will be posted." She ended her speech, flipping the thin packet close, and gracefully hopping off of the stool. Without sparing a glance, she left the room as abruptly as she had entered it. The guards yelled for everyone to get back into the line, hitting subjects who were too slow with the butt of their rifles as they typically did in a fit of impatience. 'Little Viper' allowed himself to go through the motions a little bit, trusting his honed reflexes in avoiding any attacks, his thoughts focused on the mission and its peculiarity and suddenness.

Usually the missions took longer to prepare for, instead of a few days, which was the suddenness. But he wasn't surprised by it, as he was often subjected to the last minute missions or callings for back up that usually happened late in the night with younger subjects. Like any other day, 'Little Viper' was put through his daily testing, with his numerous pills and potions administrated to keep his power diluted, since in his younger years in the facility he had been known for his outbursts, killing many handlers, and his countless escape attempts. As his soul was battered constantly, and his will to live constantly tested in solitary confinement in the lower levels, he had practically stopped acting out, finding it easier to just act as a fly on the wall, and take what was dished to him. After some time passed by, he realized that he had it better than some of the other subjects, as his surprise factor dulled in value to the bosses, with the arrival of other subjects, he was subjected to a lesser number of experiments. His strengths were proved constantly in the battlefield. It was strange as if the two unstoppable forces had come to a silent agreement in the span of time that it took for him to stop trying to escape. Often, he was subjected to brainwashing by the upper officials, but he suspected that his powers, as unknown to him as they were, helped him have some hold over his attacked memories and morals that hid behind his supposed brainwashed mentality.

He was known to be cruel and unforgiving to his enemies, destroying targets in the missions he was given without second thought. Described as a creature of destruction when his handlers in the past and present gave reports to the higher-ups. He was labeled as an almost insane creature, madness raging throughout his body when provoked, only the strongest handlers could control him, and he could only be defeated by those with superior strength and endurance. Somedays, this persona, and his own hidden personality seemed to blend into each other in times of weakness. He'd ask himself in the darkness of his cell walls, am I truly this cruel? Unstable enough to take hundreds of lives in one sweep of my hand? But then distant thoughts of a green light and a high pitched cackle, a woman's heartbreaking screech, came to his ears, and he found some strange, unknown reassurance in himself. He didn't find any joy in these ways forced upon him, but that assurance never seemed strong enough. He could not find someone else crueler to compare himself with, besides the green light, which he often times saw as unreliable and quite human in its decisions. His messed up mind couldn't distinguish reality from his own hallucinations and figments of imagination.

He halted his thoughts as he, and the smaller group that he was placed in for the mission, was stopped in front of the specialized training room. The guard that had been leading them through the winding, and confusing halls traded out with his own handler. She unlocked the door with the set of keys, as the other handlers watched her back in case any of them tried to attack her. Opening the door, she gestured for them to enter hastily, which they complied to do immediately. They all followed the orders given to them, they did the typical stretching and warming up routine that they had all been put to since the beginning of their individual times in the facility. His handler set them into groups of two since there were eight subjects. 'Little Viper' was paired with a taller subject, who shared the starving complex that he knew that he had. Her face was shallow and gaunt. Her eyes were brown, dull and empty, her body obviously tested on, as indicated by the scarring on the limbs sticking out of her threadbare clothing. They began to spar, with a steady pace, going at each other with the meaning to get a sense of each other's strength, not to cause any injuries or harm, as ordered by the redhead. The room was silent besides the slight pants as some groups picked up the pace. 'Little Viper' subtly increased his pace, using his shorter height as an advantage, as he ducked and weaved under her punches.

He felt like a king cobra, bobbing its head at its prey, it's headdress ready to spring open, and it's jaws ready to open and spray its infamous venom. Her dead brown eyes showed no pain, her chest heaving as she tried to regain her breath, her heart pumped wildly in her bony chest. 'Little Viper' cast a sideways glance at his handler as she walked by, observing his tussle with the female subject. In that exchanged glance, he asked her a wordless question, to which she nodded in reply. Having more control over the power in his veins, he started to unleash it, watching as his opponent's short, haphazardly cut hair was almost playfully pulled and tugged by an unseen current of wind. The gentle release of his power was monitored with a contraption that his handler had around her wrist, the data coming from a chip that had been inserted into him, made from an indestructible metal that he had forgotten the name of. His opponent's eyes widened marginally in terror as she felt the feared power of the infamous subject that she was fighting. She had thought that he had long since died, as was common with other older subjects, and put that with the decrease in explosions coming from the other side of the facility and gossip about the dubbed 'Sorcerer', she had reason to believe that he was dead. She almost instantly stopped fighting, her quivering making her limbs shaky, and hard to walk, no less move swiftly on.

'Little Viper' instantly tackled her, taking her signs of weakness for an opening to get her to the ground. With her long torso pressed into the cement ground, her arms held behind her back in an experienced grip, the other subjects, which who had also halted in their sparring as they felt the power in the air, listened to the pleas escaping the trapped female subject. "I admit defeat," her wavering voice echoed in the quiet room, as the subjects watched with bated breath. Some had seen the horrors caused by the black haired subject in front of them but had long since forgotten about his power and abilities. "Must you all stop when you sense an allies power?" His handler asked them in a stern voice, almost exasperated. They all took that as a sign to get back to their own fights unless they wanted a beating. She stood over the two, eyeing the female subject disdainfully, "Never admit instant defeat," She criticized the pinned subject and gestured for her own to let go of her. 'Little Viper' stood up on the demand, keeping his gaze on the ground, "That tactic was weak, do not rely on it," She told him, her brown eyes showing a small amount of an unnamed emotion, "Not every opponent will know your status," She gave a quick explanation, gesturing for them to begin sparring again with a jerk of her head at the now determined female subject.

Natasha slid away from the two, heading over to where Clint hung out in the corner, his sharp eyes watching the subjects and the selected agents that Fury had assured them, were actually other agents that had tried to do what they had been doing, with getting into higher ranks and such as a way to take Hydra down. She gave a nod to Clint, leaning against the wall with a fake air of ease. "Everything's good?" She asked him in a hushed voice, knowing that this room didn't have any microphones planted anywhere, besides the one outdated video camera that had no sound recording. Clint nodded, knowing that they would have a meeting tonight with the other trusted agents, like the few nights beforehand. Natasha found comfort in the assurance, Clint gave a small smirk, "Two more days and we'll be out of this place," He muttered, earning a soft punch in the arm as she glared at him pointedly, "Don't jinx it, farmer boy," She allowed a soft smirk to quirk the edges of her lips. No one would be happier to leave this hell hole (besides the test subjects of course) than Clint and her, as they wanted to reunite with their mix-and-match team of superheroes. Despite the human personification of arrogance that was Stark, Natasha quite liked her boys, and couldn't wait to hear the gossip that one miss Pepper Potts would surely have.

Natasha was ready to take these Hydra followers and sympathizers down.


	3. Steady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission goes off, and the facility is taken over without its key players supporting them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, I kind of lost some inspiration for this chapter, since I had no idea on how to write it in the beginning. None the less, I hope you guys enjoy it!

Being drugged was not a very enjoyable experience. The grogginess that came with it, the illnesses that could come from dirty syringes, and taking into account the fact that 'Little Viper' was forced a higher dosage than most, and you had hell on Earth. Pain and suffering that made him pray to be put out of his misery. Pray to whom? He never had anyone or anything in mind, he just prayed for help from something that had time to spare on him, and his heavy, dirty soul. Waking up in the holding cell of a jet was always a jarring moment, the bright lights piercing his eyes through his eyelids and the turbulence of the flight making his neck roll in his socket. He sat up with a soft groan, his wrists chained to the bar next to him, as he sat up on the metal bench that was bolted to the wall. He spared a glance around him, taking in the various states of his comrades. Some were still under the influence of the drugs, stuck in the forced sleep, most were like him, just waking up and shaking off the after effects of the drugs with a sense of ease that stemmed from experience.

He found his handler behind the unbreakable, see-through wall that cut off the subjects from the front of the jet, as to keep them from sabotaging the pilots. She was simultaneously watching over the subjects, and her second in command, the beige-haired male agent, as he was behind the wheel, facing away from the wall. He briefly made eye contact with her, as she looked through the wall to see how the subjects were doing as they got closer to the headquarters that they were to be attacking. As 'Little Viper' became more aware of his surroundings, he suddenly felt as though something was missing within him. As though someone had taken something that had been in his body for so long, that it had become a part of himself. His body having become used to pumping blood around it, using it as a receptor for his nerves, and receiving messages back. Such a strange feeling came from the back of his head, where a headache throbbed aggressively, and as he looked around. He saw the little twitches of pain that indicated that the others were having the same headaches.

He located the other handlers on their side of the glass, his emotions a mess under his mask, as he felt a sense of hate throb through him. The thing that he hated the most, was when things were put in, or taken out of him by those horrible scientists. It was an almost instinctual hatred, a dark thing within him that despised foreign things coming into his body, things that he didn't know. Such as when he was raped. And surely something else must have been taken from him, like his sense of purity in the beginning of his imprisonment. He felt his temper rise and crackle under the surface of his pale skin, his hands beginning to glow in a malevolent way. He felt a hand on his forearm, and he found himself being slapped. His head whipped to the side, and he looked up at his handler with a startled look on his face. The wall's door was closed once more, as she had traded off with one of the other handlers to see to her subject. "No rash actions here, Viper," she told him with a calm voice, as she grabbed his wrist with a firm hand. She leaned close, her lips inches away from his ears after a moment of inspecting him. "We got rid of all of the higher up's tracking devices," she explained, assuming that he had felt the absence of the device, giving his wrist a squeeze, making him put out the magic.

The tracking devices had been strategically taken out while everyone was drugged, as the agents sent in from S.H.I.E.L.D attacked the facility, using the rest of the Avengers to take out the hidden Hydra facility. With the bulk of the Hydra army on the battlefield, and the Winter Soldier missing from the Hydra forces, the S.H.I.E.L.D forces had a high chance of taking out everyone, with the Hulk and everyone else's combined efforts. Fury would stay back along with his close agents, Coulson and Hill, along with a small group of experienced agents to deal with the subjects coming in. There they would get the subjects into holding cells, which would be extremely better than their previous cells, and be tended to. They would be given a test to see where their sanity stood. Natasha knew that for everything to go off without a hitch, she would have to treat her own ward as the others if not, she didn't know what Fury would decide on doing when finding out how attached one of his top agents had become to one of the subjects. She turned her gaze onto 'Little Viper' contemplatively, he would surely be disappointed if he realized that she was attached to this certain subject, she thought bemusedly as she looked into the subdued green eyes before her, taking in his scraggly, black hair.

She lifted her hand slowly, softly brushing it against his forehead, making him flinch back from habit. She swept the long bangs that reached down his scrawny cheeks, revealing the pale, lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Natasha wasn't surprised to see it there. She looked over to the see-through wall, to see it being pulled up once more, as Clint traded positions, as they had taken the same shifts so that they could comfort each other during this stressful mission. One wrong move and everything that they had been working towards could be for naught if someone acted on nerves that should have been controlled beforehand. She subtly took a deep breath, making sure that her emotions were still hidden under her layers of stoicism. She gave a small nod to Clint, before standing up. She looked to one of the agents from the group, and they looked up from their S.H.I.E.L.D. regulated phone, giving a nod, and going to make sure that every one of the subjects was still locked up to the cuffs of metal, or any of the other needed equipment to keep them under control.

Natasha saw that they were close to headquarters before she gave the signal for the agent to hack into the jet, turning off the cameras and planted recording devices. If they had done it earlier, the higher officials would get notified of the breach in control, however, Natasha had gotten the update that the Avengers and S.H.I.E.L.D. team has broken into the facility. As they broke through the clouds, they came upon New York City and proceeded to land in the hangar on top of the roof of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base. The subjects became confused as they remained unreleased, bounded to their seats, or tank in one case. "There's been a change in plans," Natasha announced in her serious voice, her eyes going over the blank and weary faces of the post-drugged subjects. "You are all going to be working for S.H.I.E.L.D. now," the looks of shock were obvious, as just about every one of the subjects had thought the officials smarter than to try and put someone as obvious as a mutilated, shell of a human as an agent in their enemy base.

"The mission," her loud voice caught their attention once more, "Is to receive healing from the doctors without violence, any unneeded violence will be punished." Natasha watched the looks of surprise ebb away, as they assumed whatever they needed to assume to reassure themselves with this sudden change of plans. "Additionally, you will all be under new officials," Clint voiced up, knowing that as the supposed 'second-in-command' that he needed to add his own word into her speech. "They will be Director Fury, Agents Hill, and Coulson, along with your original handlers, unless any need reason to change comes to the surface," he stated, uncrossing his arms, and pushing the button on the side wall, opening the large doors. He stepped back as the doors opened to the sunny room of the dreary jet, sun shining in from the wide, tinted windows on the walls. Standing on the other side of the jet, was none other than Fury and his whole team of agents. His eye glared at the staring subjects against the opposite wall, his face set into a scowl and his hands clasped behind his back, while Hill and Coulson stood by his side. "Agents," he greeted the few handlers, keeping his gaze on the subjects surrounding him. He had his hand gripped loosely on his hand pistol behind him, his posture tensed, yet as confident as a tiger in the jungle.

"You have all been abused," he spoke loudly after examining the people chained before him. Each one looked like they were as broken as the next, either from the expressions on their faces, the look in their eyes, or their scrunched up posture. "I am here to propose a deal," this sentence caused many to lift their chins up higher in interest, their eyes glued to him as they looked in a guarded, yet earnest, face. "If we take you in, and you act accordingly, then everything is sunshine and rainbows, everyone wins," he paused, nodding to himself in thought. He pulled his gun out from behind his back, showing it to the subjects. "If you plan to backstab our act of kindness, then I'll gladly shoot you now, as to prevent such cases of betrayal," he told them sternly, giving a quirk of a smile. "Kindness is what we plan to show you, as well as a way to undo anything that has been done under Hydra's control," Coulson spoke up, his aged face pulled into a small, short-lived smile, as one of the subjects in front of Fury spit at their feet.

At least they tried to, as they had a mask on that prevented them from attacking anyone with their acidic saliva. Fury pointed the gun at their head menacingly, his hand steady. "Please, say it, don't spray it," Fury toned in a monotonous voice, his dry humor being rewarded with silence, as everyone looked on with a sense of anxiety. Under the building stress, 'Little Viper' felt his power rise up again at the increase of his emotions. With the sight of one of the common targets being in front of him, along with the threat that he represented to his teammate, he was almost ready to snap through his bindings and end the man's life. He didn't want himself, or anyone else, to be forced into an environment that could possibly be harsher than their last one. His vision tunneled in intense concentration when the barrel of the gun was pointed at him instead, the director seeing the hostility in the subject.

Seeing an opening to prove herself, Natasha stepped forward, in between the gun and 'Little Viper', and took his wrists once more. "Viper," she shook his arms, bringing his focus onto her, his hands a simmering green, "тишина (Silence)." Her presence made him calm once more, as his fraying nerves halted his thoughts of reason. Natasha knew why she calmed him, having seen photos of his family, and assuming that he was reminded of his mother, with her red hair, though her face is not what many would expect. His nervous green eyes looked into her brown, as he tiredly slumped over as far as his bindings would allow since using his magic tired him out. She looked at Fury, as she stood up, "Sir," she clasped her hands behind her back, mimicking his earlier posture. "Is it truly smart of you to taunt people that can kill you with a flick of their hand?" She asked him, looking around at the other subjects, who were as tired as 'Little Viper'.

Fury had been watching the interaction with a raised eyebrow, wondering what Natasha was planning. He pocketed his gun, and gave a curt nod, observing her as she continued to stand between him and her own subject. "Let's get them into an S.H.I.E.L.D. jet, and get them to The Raft," Natasha's eyes widened at that, observing her bosses face. She saw how Coulson and Hill seemed unfazed with this decision, taking a deep breath, she wrapped away any more of her emotions that could have leaked out during her interaction with 'Little Viper'. As the next group of agents took over, the handlers standing off to the side, she felt Clint prod her in the side. Turning her head marginally towards him, she heard him say, "Think he's going to keep to his word?" Clint wondered in a soft voice, knowing that some of the subjects had enhanced senses, and could still hear them, even with all of the ruckus that the agents were making.

Natasha shrugged, "You can only hope he does," she muttered back in reply, "I mean, if he doesn't he's going to have some fed up people on his case." Clint nodded in agreement, while he eyed the handling of the subjects, watching how the geared up agents, with their helmets and bulletproof jackets and rifles, almost timidly touched the bindings holding the subjects. They cuffed the subjects once more with similar bindings and made the switch to a jet waiting off to the side. Staying back, Natasha watched how Fury had them sedated again, giving a small wince in sympathy for how they resignedly took the needles, her own subject giving a dose even though he was already passed out. She looked over as she caught the sight of Agent Maria Hill striding towards her briskly, "Agent Romanoff," she greeted in a slightly hushed voice, knowing that her name could trigger the subjects even more into a murderous rage since the redhead was another common target for assassination attempts. Natasha nodded in greeting to Hill from her position from the wall, leaning against the jet almost nonchalantly. "Barton," the woman turned her gaze upwards, towards the top of a neighboring jet, "Fury wants you for a briefing," she told them in her stern voice, turning and walking back towards a group of agents carrying the subjects into the jet.

Natasha heard Clint drop down to the floor, giving a small chuckle at his antics. "I bet he gets off on these things," Clint joked, bumping his shoulder against hers in a comradely way. Natasha shook her head in amusement, "I mean, really, who would want all of that paperwork!" Clint huffed, making Natasha snort as they began to walk towards the hallways that would lead to the director, and stepped into an elevator.

\---With the others in the Hydra facility---

The trip had been boring, Tony had thought. With how stressed that Bruce, Steve, and Thor had been, well, not Thor really. Thor was more relaxed than the others, but point break had just gotten back from Asgard, so he was stuck in his own thoughts. So he had to entertain himself. You know, some phone games, try and read some emails. Okay, he hacked. A lot. But this time it was for a good cause. With his tablet, he had dismantled the alarms of the Hydra facility. Noobs of the highest, as they didn't even think to put in a firewall, or try anything really. He had made sure to dismantle them when they were a few miles away, throwing in an untraceable system to keep whoever was at the control center busy, trying to find the hacker. With the added help of Jarvis, and you had someone that couldn't be taken down. Easily, at least.

The plan was simple, they had foot soldiers that had been established earlier in the mission, taking over from the ground to assure that no one got away, and the Avengers and other back up taking the air to bomb the entire complex. The subjects would be tricky, but they had been told that no one had experimented with anything like what was used on Wolverine or Deadpool yet, as that stuff was pretty hard to get nowadays. Plus, even if they used that technique, the rate of death to success was too unbalanced, that some young facility could not copy something as complicated as that. He was now flying around, Thor on the other side of the hidden bunker, posing as a homeless shelter. That part made things tricky and was probably one of the smartest things that the people had done since they wouldn't be able to tell who was a civilian and who was an actual agent. They were in a more abandoned part of the Russian town, though. So the homeless shelter was kind of unneeded, marking where their intelligence stopped.

Tony aimed his palm at a jet, his repulsor shooting out a beam to take it down, not worrying about any civilian deaths, since a scan had shown that no one was hiking or staying in the forests surrounding the home, and the agents on the ground had broken into the bunker with Caps' aid. The only thing connecting the facility to the outside world was the long winding road and the scant telephone pole. He heard the loud yells from Hulk down on the ground, as Bruce had previously transformed in midair, jumping from the jet once they were above the building. As he heard the joyous shouts from Thor, he turned towards the Norse god, who flew up to his side and threw an arm around his metal covered shoulder. "My friend, we have gotten those villains to surrender!" The blond exclaimed, "Shall we join our friends on the ground?" He looked at him with an inquiring look, his face gleeful. "Sure blondie," Tony relented, taking a look around to make sure that no other jet was trying to get away, he turned the com back onto the device he had been given before they had left since he had turned it off mid-fight. Listening to the talk over the com, he gave a nod at the conversations he heard there.

Landing on the snow covered ground, Tony allowed his mask to open up as he swaggered over to Steve, "Hey Captain oh-Captain," Tony greeted as he turned to face the armor-cladded multi-billionaire, "How'd you guys make out down here?" Tony asked curiously, keeping his tone serious since they were talking about the possible deaths that had happened on their side. Steve shrugged, swooping down to pick up his shield, "Haven't gotten a count yet, but I believe we should head back to the jet," Steve told him, shifting so that he faced the open doorway that was being guarded by agents on their side. "Where's Banner?" Tony questioned once he realized that his science buddy wasn't around them yet. "Doctor Banner is resting in the jet we took over here," Steve told him, as they waited for the agents to end their search in the facility. Tony nodded to himself, knowing that no one would mess with his friend.

Waiting around the front, they watched as a slew of agents walked out of the doorway, a few handcuffed men and women in long, tattered trench coats with bruised faces being held in between them. They walked alongside the agents, making sure that the captives were put away securely, as to assure themselves. The small group of assembled Avengers walked back to their own jet. Closing the door, Tony absently tossed another blanket over his sleeping friend, and turned towards the wheel, and turned on the jet. As everyone settled down, he took the jet to the sky, and they began their long flight back. The fight had been a typical 'bust in and take them out' since the small facility didn't seem to have any larger weapons than the sickly test subjects, and meager arsenal.


End file.
